Untitled
by Night Angel 101
Summary: Harry Potter, orphan. Draco Malfoy, aristocrat. Two people from different walks of life brought together by fate. What will happen? Drarry, S/D, B/N, AU, yaoi DISCLAIM:I do not own the characters. All characters belong to J.K.Rowling.


The room was dark and cold, the only window barred. A stray beam of moonlight shone into the room, casting a long, thin line on the stone floor. In the corner of the room was a single, thin mattress, on which there were no blankets or pillows. A thin form shivered slightly as a breeze drifted in. Rags hung loosely off the waif-like form. Dull, emerald green eyes looked out at the room from under messy, black hair. He stared at the door, knowing – dreading – that it would open soon. The tall, metal door opened, revealing a large, beefy man with very little neck and a bushy black moustache. He stormed into the room and roughly grabbed the boy's arm, causing him to cry out in pain. He paused and turned back around, glaring at the boy. The cowering form clamped his mouth shut and allowed the man to drag him from the room. The only place he had known his whole life, besides the cupboard under the stairs.

They walked up the creaky, basement stairs before the beefy man shoved him roughly into the hall, making him fall, hard, to the floor. He slowly got up – only to be filled with dread at what lay before him. He glanced at the other man desperately. "Please, Uncle Vernon, I'll do anything!" He whispered, his voice edged with fear.

"Anything?" Vernon grinned evilly. "Then I suggest you get out there, boy."

Green eyes widened in fear but before he could say anything else, a pale, blue eyed man grabbed him by the front of his ratty shirt and yanked him into a room. He felt the man measuring him, touching places he'd prefer to be left untouched. A single, crystalline tear dropped from his eyes before he roughly dragged his hand across them. He refused to cry. This sort of humiliation would be short-lived, he was sure of it. Nothing to worry about, really. So why did he feel so terrified?

The man before him stood back and admired his handy work. "It'll do. Now, take off your clothes and be prepared to be examined."

The boy gaped at him. "You're kidding, right?"

The man cocked an eyebrow. "Does it _look_ like I'm kidding around here? I have a job to do and if you don't cooperate, I lose money. If there's a chance that I will lose money over this, I will use force. Comprende?"

The boy gulped and quickly nodded his head. _So much for defiance._ He slowly pulled off the rags on his thin body and waited for the man to finish his examination. The man walked around slowly, writing stuff down as he walked around the boy. He nodded appreciatively every so often and frowned when something he didn't like caught his eye. With a final, decisive jab of his pen on the pad of paper, he looked up and the boy and smirked smugly. "Welcome to the slave trade, boy." And he proceeded to walk out of the room.

Ten minutes later a group of slightly older individuals walked into the room. The girls in the group frowned slightly before grabbing his arms and dragging him to an empty tub. The boys in the group walked over and filled it to near-overflowing with steaming hot water and soap. The girls shoved him in and scrubbed mercilessly at his dirty hair. He didn't bother trying to ask them any questions due to the fact that he didn't even understand the language they were speaking. It was a soft, lilting tongue that sent shivers up and down his spine. He recognized their pixie-like faces and easily placed them with the faerie race. He was confused as to why they were tall, though, and nearly asked before he clamped his mouth shut. No use asking a question if he wasn't going to understand the answer.

When they were satisfied that he was clean enough, they yanked him back out. One girl tutted worriedly over his malnourished frame, shaking her head. As if on second thought, she quickly gave him a hug, her bushy brown hair getting into his face. Surprise coursed through him before he tentatively gave her a small hug in return. When she pulled away, she gave him a huge smile – and produced a ruby red dress-thing. He shook his head, edging away from her. She frowned and signalled for the others to grab him so she could put it on. He shook his head as the group held him still as she busied herself with dressing him in it. He squeezed his eyes shut, praying it would be over soon.

Hearing her walk away, he slowly opened his eyes – and was staring straight at himself in a mirror. His messy black hair was still messy, but it had been cut so he didn't look like a rag-doll. His green eyes stood out with the vibrant red, looking large and innocent. He grimaced slightly at the gaunt look of his face, but the girl only shook her head when she saw his expression. The man from earlier came back in, clapping his hands and shouting orders. The group looked at him confusedly, before he rolled his eyes and gestured for what they had to do. The brunette smiled once more at the boy before se walked out with the rest of them, sticking out her foot so the man tripped and fell.

The man quickly jumped back up and dusted himself off. "I am _so_ glad they will be gone after today. You elves and faeries always leave the quickest." He glanced slyly at the boy before him. "Although, I hear that _you_ are only a half breed." The man smirked, "Which means, you'll probably be sold for pleasure purposes." The boy blanched before the man snapped a collar in place. "Time to go, Precious."

A leash was attached to the collar and he was dragged from the room into a long, dark hallway. He felt the man tie him to a hook on the wall before he walked away. All around him, he could sense thousands of other creatures waiting to be sold. He shuddered at the word: _sold_. He'd be going from being owned by his relatives to being owned by some snooty human – or worse. His face drained of all colour. He'd heard of people being sold to Mystics – creatures that people knew little about but were as dangerous as they came. They had long blonde hair, grey or blue eyes and pale skin. Fear coursed through his body before he realized he was being ridiculous. Mystics were meant to scare little children into sleeping at night. They were nothing to worry about – just some made-up phantom. He sighed in near contentment at the thought.

He listened as he heard the announcer calling out descriptions of the "merchandise" and random buyers yelling out their prices. He heard the same, distinct voice a few times before he started to block everything out. It was better not to think about it.

"Pleasure Items," the announcer called, and the boy's blood ran cold.

* * *

Two sets of grey eyes gazed, bored, at the items being sold on the stage. The older set was merely buying things that vaguely interested him, and his son just waited for one section to be called. He wanted nothing to do with the Housemaids, the Menservants, the Maids, the Cooks, etc. He wanted his Pleasure Item. He had recently come into the age in which he was allowed one and he had no interest in any of the women who fawned over him. It had been his father's idea to come to the slave auction in the Elves' kingdom, Gryffindor, at the Dursley Residence. It was odd that an elf would want to hold an auction, but nobody dared to question it. The Dursley's were the relatives of the late Potter's and were holding the son's lands until he came of age – if they hadn't gotten rid of him yet.

"Father. Why did you have to buy the Mudblood? She's ugly." The boy whined as his father bough the bushy-haired girl.

"Your friend, Ronald, wanted a slave too. He just got it." His father sighed. _Patience, patience._ The boy humphed and slouched in his seat. "Malfoy's don't slouch, Draco." The boy glared at his father before sitting up straight again. How the man knew he wasn't acting like a Malfoy when he wasn't looking was beyond him.

"Pleasure Items." The announcer called out, making the younger blonde sit up even straighter.

A thin, red-headed girl stepped out. The announcer described her as she stood nervously on the stage. "Isn't that Ginevra Weasley, father?"

The man nodded his head and quickly began calling out numbers. The Weasley's would never forgive them if they didn't save their long, lost daughter from an almost certain, cruel fate. The blonde boy smirked at the thought as he realized Ron would owe _him_ now, instead of the other way around. A groan came from someone close by, and the boy looked over, in surprise, at his friend.

"Blaise, what the hell are you groaning about?"

"Draco, you _do_ realize this means she'll be chasing after me again, don't you?"

Draco rolled his eyes and looked back at the stage. "She can't if you get your own Pleasure Item."

"Draco, Draco, Draco. You have to realize that even a Pleasure Item is a person." The blonde boy looked blankly at his friend. The black boy groaned again and leaned back in his seat. "What am I going to do with you?"

Draco smirked, "Why, Blaise, you _know_ I don't go for people who are friends."

A smack to the back of each of their heads shut them both up. "Pay attention!" Severus Snape hissed at them.

The boys glanced at each other a final time and rolled their eyes.

"Precious, Pleasure Item #401." (_There's 401 Pleasure Items?_ Draco though.) The man began describing the boy as he was pushed onto the stage. Draco stared. He was perfection in the making, that one. Messy black hair elegantly framed his face; big, emerald green eyes looked innocently, as well as warily, out at the crowd; small, feminine curves stood out underneath the red robe; and long, pale, perfectly formed legs stood out under the thigh-high skirt of the robe. He was a little on the thin side, but Draco was sure he could get that straightened out in no time at all.

"He's perfect," he whispered.

Lucius glanced at his son, who was openly staring at the young man on the stage. He could tell the boy didn't even notice that the boy was a half-breed, someone his son would normally be hugely against having.

"$46, 000!"

"Do I hear $50, 000?!"

"Father!"

"$72, 000!!!!" Lucius yelled from the back. The room filled with silence.

"Anyone for $75, 000?" The room stayed silent. "Going once, going twice... SOLD!" Draco could have cheered. "That's all, folks!"

Blaise teased his friend as they traipsed to the backroom, where the slaves all were waiting to be picked up by one Mr Lucius Malfoy, from the Slytherin Kingdom. The young, green eyed youth stared at the two before moving closer to three other boys.

"Ah, Mr Malfoy, my favourite buyer!"

"Riddle, good to see you again." Lucius muttered, not meaning a single word he said.

"Ah, yes, Nott believed you may enjoy these four, fine young gentlemen since you spent so much on young Precious here."

Draco glanced at Blaise. The name sounded so fake he was sure his ears were bleeding. All he wanted was the black-haired boy standing in front of him. As soon as he had him, he would gladly leave.

"What are their names?" Blaise suddenly piped up. Draco looked over at his head, raising an eyebrow. His dark skinned friend merely shrugged, a faint smile on his face.

"Ah, yes. Seamus," he pointed at a boy with sandy hair, "Dean," a second finger pointed at a black boy beside Seamus, "and Neville," a third finger pointed at a blond boy with a round face, standing directly behind 'Precious', "who is, unfortunately, a little bit clumsy. They were all supposed to be sold in the Pleasure Items category, but seeing as how you bought Precious for a tidy sum, we agreed they would all return with you. As a gift."

Draco sniggered slightly before he finally asked: "What's Precious' real name?"

Riddle paused. Dark eyes focused on the younger Malfoy, and a slight smirk briefly passed over his face. "Aren't you the little inquirer?"

"Just answer the question, Riddle."

The tall, black haired man's handsome features hardened. "I wasn't given a name. His uncle thought it prudent not to disclose such information. And personally, I do not feel the need to ask the boy myself. "Good day, Mr Malfoy." With that said, he turned quickly and stormed out of the room, causing the occupants to cringe away in fear.

Draco blew a stray lock of hair out of his face. "Well, that was an experience." Blaise burst out laughing at his friend's bored expression.

"Draco, restrain yourself. Blaise, try to act the way you were raised. If you weren't raised by those... Severus, slaves, now." Lucius turned and walked out a different door from Riddle.

Seeing his father leave, Draco glanced at his friend and smirked. "Slaves, Blaise?"

"You bet, Drake."

Harry's head snapped up as he felt a hand grab his own and start pulling him to a door. He panicked as he looked back and saw his friends being led somewhere else. "No!"

Draco glanced back at the green eyed boy. Seeing him looking elsewhere, he leaned back and looked over his shoulder. "Oh. Don't worry, Blaise is having them ride with us." Emerald green eyes fixated on Draco's pale face before glancing back down at the floor. The boy obviously refused to respond. Rolling in his eyes, Draco called back, "Oi! Blaise, could you hurry it up! Some of us are having technical difficulties!"

Blaise smirked before calling back, "Try the leash, dipstick!"

"Right," Draco muttered. "Because I'm as cruel as you."

* * *

Harry sat on the large, soft bed. He had no doubts in his mind about what was going to happen. He shifted nervously on the duvet, glancing back at his friends. Neville looked as though he was about ready to wet his pants; Seamus blew on his fingertips, occasionally glancing up at his boyfriend, Dean, who had him pulled possessively against his side. Harry gnawed on his lip. It was remarkable how long those two had been able to live under the radar. Now, their relationship was probably about to end all because of his uncle. _Stupid man and his not liking us half-breeds._ Really, it wasn't his fault his mother got knocked up by some idiot from a different country. Whose name happened to be Potter. Who hadn't left after he found out that his toy had gotten pregnant. Who married his mother to save his family's honour. Really, who wanted a mistake to be known?

He sighed. Obviously not his uncle. After his parents had died, he'd opted to lock him in a cupboard for the first ten years of his life, resulting in his shortness, before tossing him down into the basement, with the bars on the only window. Shortly after that, his three friends had followed. The man was the bane of Gryffindor. He could rule about as well as a pile of shit. He sighed again. If it hadn't been for him, his friends would be out of this mess. Especially Neville. All because his uncle hated orphans. _Asshole._

The door opened, making Seamus and Dean jump apart and causing to Neville to scurry behind Harry. Waltzing into the room was none other than – the brunette faerie. She walked around them, obviously trying to pick out who it was she was looking for in the dark room. Recognizing Harry, she smiled and hurried over. Scrunching up her face she managed to say: "I Hermione."

Seeing the confused look on the boy's face, the girl looked around for some help. Seamus started laughing and Dean shook his head slightly before turning to his friend. "She's telling you her _name_."

"Oh." What he said finally registered. "_Oh!_" He turned back to the girl, grasping her hand and smiling back. "I'm Harry. Harry Potter."

She smiled widely and suddenly reached out to touch his hair. Nodding in satisfaction, she waltzed back out of the room. Not two moments later, the blonde haired, grey eyed boy from earlier walked in, with his friend closely following.

"Who would've thought father would give them all to me, huh, Blaise?"

Blaise's eyes landed on the blonde haired boy behind Harry. "Hmm? Oh, right. Of course he'd give them to you, dipstick! Why would _he_ need them?"

Draco spun around. "Are you _implying_ something, Zabini?!"

"Yup. If I had your mother, I wouldn't need them either." The smirk was wiped off his face by the sudden fist in his stomach making him double over. "I take it back! I take it back!"

"Good." His grey eyes met with green ones. "Blaise, choose and get out."

Seeing the smouldering look in his friend's usually expressionless eyes, he quickly walked over to the other three and dragged them out. "He's never going to be interested in you, so don't worry. You're friend... He's a different story." The boys glanced back, a look of trepidation displayed openly on their faces. "And Dean? Seamus? No use hiding your relationship." The sandy haired boy stopped, speechless, his boyfriend moving in front of him, protectively. Blaise turned to look at them. "Unless you want a show, move." Their faces reddened in embarrassment as the image came to mind and they quickly moved forward. "And don't worry, Draco said you should stay together. And I'm interested in neither of you. Ah, here's your room!" Pushing the two boys in, he smirked and said: "Have fun boys! Try not to tire each other out _too_ much!" Turning to the blonde behind him, he smiled. "You, my friend, are coming with me." The look on his face was priceless. "Oh, don't worry! I'm not like Draco – I don't rush things."

Neville nodded slightly and mumbled: "I still get to see Harry, right?"

"Duh."

* * *

Harry stood nervously, and fidgeted. Draco rolled his eyes and walked over, grabbing his hands. Leaning down, he placed his lips onto Harry's plump red ones. The raven tentatively responded, slowly closing his eyes and letting the sensations sweep over him. Draco smirked slightly and changed the angle of the kiss, deepening it...


End file.
